


to light the night, to help us grow

by nanuk_solitura



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3439952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanuk_solitura/pseuds/nanuk_solitura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn't leave you though, did she little brother?</p><p>You went and lost her.</p><p> [au from 4x13]</p>
            </blockquote>





	to light the night, to help us grow

**Author's Note:**

> [au from 4x13]

_Left foot. Right foot._

_Left. Right. Left..._

Except these thoughts weren't actually his thoughts. Words were swimming behind his eyes but everything was blurred, jumbled. He couldn't have formed a coherent thought with a gun to his head.

A staccato booming was sounding in his ears, his heart furious. His head was filled with it, his ears were ringing.

_How long had he been running? How far..._

His gaze was fogging, darkening, and he shook his head roughly in frustration. Sweat soaked strands whipped across his face, stinging his eyes. The motion made him falter, broke his dogged pace as he staggered left. The verge and tree line swam into view, the vibrant greens an obnoxious shift from the dirty grey of the road.

_Don't fall. Don't stop._

_If you stop..._

He realigned, what little breath he had sucked from his burning lungs. The center road markings were faded and irregular but he tried to chase them.

_Straight line please sir. Toe to heel._

_Merle roaring with laughter, slumped against the hood._

_The officer was tired and tight-lipped._

_He'd done it. Over the limit his ass._

He felt drunk now though. Off his tits drunk. As though he'd stumbled out of a dive at four in the morning, boozed up to his eyeballs with some broad hanging off his jacket. Staggering left, then right across a parking lot. Sideways and backwards. He lurched forwards.

_Which way was he going?_

_That way. Forwards._

If walkers- if _one_ walker- was to spill from the woods, right then in front of him. There'd be nothing he could do about it. Keep running? Could he actually stop?

_Left foot. Right foot._

_Left. Right. Left..._

The butt of the crossbow was bouncing on his tailbone. He was aware of it, but couldn't actually feel it. Wasn't sure if he could feel anything that wasn't the flames in his lungs or the blades in his ribs. He could almost taste the soot in his throat. The blood pasting his sides.

_Did she-_

_-no._

With a sound he's sure he didn't make, his pace increased. The pain reminded him quickly. He could run, or he could think. He couldn't do both. Not both.

So he ran.

and ran.

and ran.

_Left._

_Right._

_Left._

_Right._

Wait. There was something, something- a marker. Hope bloomed suddenly within him and he struggled to order the black lettering into words. Railroad crossing.

Beyond that a-

a fork.

The road forked.

Unbidden he slowed, the realisation edging in sluggishly. The understanding came next.

He crumbled. Not yet at a stop but body limp and empty, his knees hit the gravel; cloth and skin grating. He curled in on himself and the fire contained in his lungs burst free. It blazed through him, licking at his thighs and calves until he no longer felt them. His chest swelled and deflated grotesquely beneath his shirt. Every strained and desperate breath felt torn from him.

_Like she was._

He could see her now, could finally conjure her face in his mind. Could see her in the mottled candlelight of that kitchen, triumph in her eyes and smirk on her lips. Fucking peanut butter smear on her cheek. Her voice echoed on repeat in his head, high and insistent.

_I'm not gonna leave you!_

Even as the burning in his body subsided, it pooled behind his eyes. She did though. She lied. She lied and left him behind. Left him _alone_ , just like every other asshole.

_She didn't leave you though, did she little brother?_

_You went and lost her._

With a strangled moan he struck out at the tarmac with a closed fist.

_There are still good people Daryl._

The white cross flashed in his mind and he struck out again blindly, knuckles crumpling into the road.

_Pretty soon I won't need you at all._

Blood was now dribbling over his hand in even rivulets, flesh shredded and weeping.

_I'll be gone someday..._

_No_. The word escaped him in a rasping cry. _Stop. Stop. Please stop._ His voice cracked and whined now, pathetic and small. He could hear Merle laughing again. He didn't care. _Just don't be gone._

How could he have been so _fucking_ stupid. Telling her- no, _ordering_ her to run, to risk herself like that. For all he knew there could have been a hundred walkers out there. Could have ripped her into pieces as soon as she climbed out the damned window of that place.

That place. Of course he saw it now, clear as the day he was born. So obviously a trap. Painstakingly, blindingly, so hideously obvious. And he hadn't seen it.

All he'd seen was her.

Swaying on a strangers grave. Fingers gliding over yellowed keys. Arms looped tightly around his shoulders. That goddamned, fucking peanut butter smear...

He'd let her blind him, let her drop rose tinted glasses over his eyes and lead him around by the balls. Got comfortable, got complacent.

_He'd just opened the door-he didn't even-_

Got stupid.

He tipped his head back towards the sky, neck cracking and throbbing in protest. The sun was pale and bright in his eyes, but he blinked and tried to focus on a smudge in his vision. A small group of birds crossed overhead and he tracked one as it tapered off from the group. Some small bird- a wren probably, useless thing. It swooped back and forth, spiralling upwards and shrieking its song to the dawn. He shook his head firmly once more and grit his teeth, incensed with himself.

_Pull your shit together._

He'd go left for a couple of hours, maybe more. Find a town, a house-something-car, a car, he'd find a car. Keep looking left. Double back, go right-

A sound pulled his gaze back to the road. Empty. It had been quiet, far off. Walker, most like. He almost smiled. Despite the burn in his chest and lead in his belly he would have welcomed it; getting to rip something- _anything_ into pieces with his hands. Stabbing over and over and over and over-

Double back and go right. Same distance, couple of hours. Rinse and repeat, further and further out. Find gas. Find a trail. Find them.

A crack of wood echoed in the air and his hand was at his knife, numb and bloodied fingers slipping uselessly against the hilt. His eyes danced over the road, emptiness familiar and shattering.

But not empty.

She was struggling forwards along the right hand forest edge, propelling herself desperately between tree trunks and clutching at the bark. One arm cradled tight against her chest and left foot dragging awkwardly behind her, she stumbled to her knees.

And met his eyes.

_Her eyes. They're her eyes._

_She's her._

Wide and glassy, full of pain and fear . But _her_ eyes. She was still, just blinking at him. There was no shock there. Like she wasn't surprised to see him sitting there, slumped in the middle of the road. He couldn't move though, like his legs had frozen to the ground beneath him and arms turned boneless. She was right there, out in front of him and he couldn't move.

Straight away he wanted to slap himself. Universe doesn't just throw you a bone like that. It just doesn't. He was exhausted, dehydrated; seeing what he wanted to see. So, so, much he wanted. He had wanted Merle once - or needed him, was more apt. So he'd seen him, felt him and heard him; shouting and pushing and swearing at him till he did what needed to be done.

She was what he needed now. So there she was. That bright little ball of unyielding optimism that chased him around in the night. Pestering till she'd pushed her little flame of hope right up under his nose. He knew why he could see her. He was meant to get up, get up and move forwards- to _keep_ looking. That was the whole point of her right?

She was all but crawling up the verge now, painted lips pressed together in a thin line. She straightened as her hands met the road, her gait grotesquely walker-like but for her agitated pace.

She couldn't have been more than twenty yards away when started to doubt himself. She was bloody, breathing hard through her nose.  
At ten yards he could see tears gathering in her eyes and his throat began to burn.

As she approached arms distance, he believed.

She tumbled into him, solid and shaking and so _so_ real. Her legs had wobbled and crumpled under her like a newborn fawn, curled in on herself. She pressed her face tight against his vest, coiled her fingers into a vice on his collar. His arms were boneless and useless at his sides; breath trapped in his chest. He couldn't move.

_She was really real. Really here._

His arms snapped up around her, dragging her against him desperately. She whimpered faintly, but sagged into his hold. He allowed himself a handful of deep, steadying _agonising_ breaths against the top of her head before he pulled back, hands moving to cup her shoulders. Steeled himself to really look at her.

A shallow laceration curved over her hairline, the surrounding skin purpling and raising. The right side of her face oozed from brow to chin, dirty and raw. _Road rash,_ he dimly identified. Shallow split in her top lip and mouth smeared in scarlet. She was watching him now, eyes up and darting back and forth over his face. Where he had before been spent and limp, every muscle was now tensed painfully under his skin. The grazing went on down her side, marring her upper arm, her hip. She still clutched her right arm tightly to her breastbone, bloody hand wrapped around her wrist. Her - _god_ -her boots were gone, socks worn through; useless rings of fabric plastered to her ankles. Her feet were scratched and scraped to hell and her ankle-

_He couldn't, he-_

He closed his eyes in anguish, and clenched his shaking fists at her sides. Tried to breathe.

_In and out._

He had her.

_In and out._

She was here.

_In and out._

He could fix this- he would fix this. She was here, she was with him again. He _would_ \- he-

She reached out to him, fingertips feather light on his cheek. Wiping at the tear there.

"Beth."

Barely a whisper, his voice croaked out of him. Raw and grinding in his throat.

A wide, watering smile. Her lip bled anew but still, she smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading.  
> still in two minds regarding a continuation, perspective wise.  
> piece was prompted by missing this girl tonnes.


End file.
